


Under the Weather

by word_dissociation



Category: Fangbone! (Cartoon)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Rain, Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt, and then one of those kids dealing with the consequences in the second half, just two kids doing goofing around in the rain for the first half
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 12:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/word_dissociation/pseuds/word_dissociation
Summary: “Rain is not for playing. It is meant to either wash away the old or for the Gods to deliver omens.”“Well on Earth, it just makes mud and puddles,” He lets Fangbone’s elbow go and jumps into a small dip in the yard, sending water flying. “See? It’s fun!”





	Under the Weather

**Author's Note:**

> just a little something i wrote for some anon on tumblr, who asks for fangbone playing in the rain + getting sick. first time writing these two so enjoy !!!

Getting used to Earth, the confounding softness of almost every element of it, wasn’t something Fangbone thought he would ever master. When the blanket of dense, gray clouds rolled in, accompanied by wind and the faraway rumble of thunder, Fangbone had spread his cape up and over himself- and Bill, of course- in order to brace himself for the bruising pummel of water, and any other bad omens. He did not expect for it to feel like barely anything more than being gently splashed, and even more so for Bill to throw off his shoes and socks and run out into the rain, smiling ear to ear.  
  
“Why do you shed your footwear, Bill?” Fangbone asks, lowering his cape, confident now that there are no threats.  
  
“So I don’t have to wear my wet socks,” He runs back around, tugging Fangbone along by the elbow. “Don’t tell you you’ve never played around in the rain before.”  
  
“Rain is not for playing. It is meant to either wash away the old or for the Gods to deliver omens.”  
  
“Well on Earth, it just makes mud and puddles,” He lets Fangbone’s elbow go and jumps into a small dip in the yard, sending water flying. “See? It’s fun!”  
  
Bill, ever correct, shows him just how much for playing rain actually is. Fangbone sheds his boots in turn, and then both of them chase each other around the back yard in a very spirited game of tag, slipping on the sharp turns and trying to dodge each other. One such attempt has Fangbone “eating it”, sliding along on his belly and getting doused in mud. Bill laughs with so much force he doubles over, giving Fangbone the perfect opportunity for him to tug him into the mud with him, and then both of them are laughing, trying to get up without slipping too much. Bill helps him catch worms and frogs that have surfaced to soak in the water, and how to catch raindrops on his tongue. They laugh and roughhouse until the rain starts to pick up and get heavier, at which point Bill’s mom comes out calling for him to come inside before he catches a cold. Fangbone decides to decline the offer to come inside and dry off together; though no where near as heavy and bruising as the rains of Skullbania, he kind of likes it. He wants to continue to have fun.

So he makes sure to jump into every puddle he encounters on his way back to Cavebania, even going so far as leaping up to grab the low-hanging branches of to swing off of, shaking droplets onto his head and shoulders. By the time he reaches Cavebania he is soaked to the bone, hair clumping against his face and shivering occasionally from the cold, but otherwise very satisfied with himself. He starts a fire and gets ready to skin dinner, listening to the pleasant thump of rain above him. All is pleasant throughout the rest of the evening, until morning comes.

 

He knows, in fairness, he should curse himself for letting his guard down, but instead hisses out his most seething insults to Morg as he lays all but stuck to his pillow, glued there by snot and drool. His head pounds and his throat is scratchy from coughing, and though he tries to roll out of bed and onto his feet, the best he manages to do roll over groggily onto his side. He thinks maybe just a few more minutes of sleep will alleviate him, except every time he just reaches the cusp of falling under, he coughs himself back awake. He wonders to himself which of his enemies has hexed him, or perhaps which of the Gods he has displeased so thoroughly as to curse him with his current sad and feeble state.

He hears the skidding of dirt under shoes, and turns his head to see Bill as he slides into Cavebania; most certainly wondering why Fangbone hadn’t come to wake  _ him  _ up with the rising of the sun, or even come to join him to break fasts together. His sees Fangbone from his sad perch on his bed, brows shooting upwards.

 

“You look  _ awful _ !” Observational, as always.

 

“Thank you, Bill.”

 

Bill comes to his side, taking a good look at him. “It looks like you caught something after yesterday,” He makes a considering face, and then puts the back of his hand against Fangbone’s forehead. “Hmm.. You feel pretty warm, too.”

 

“I feel more than  _ warm _ , Bill,” Fangbone whines- though he will maintain, for all of time, that it was not a whine. “No matter what I do I cannot escape this- frigid air- and yet I cannot stop sweating either. My nose both leaks and seals itself, my throat burns, and worst of all my head pounds with the force of one-hundred forgemasters’ hammers!”

 

“Yep, sounds like you’ve got the flu,” Bill moves his hand back.

 

“I fear this may be the end for me, Bill,” Fangbone curls in on himself, just slightly. “I want to thank you, for all you have done for me. Truly no warrior could ask for a battle brother more faithful and true than you.”

 

“You’re not dying, Fangbone, you just have a bug. You just have to rest and let your body get over it.”

 

“I do not need rest,” He scoffs. “I have spent too long in bed already. I will  _ force  _ this bug out.”

 

Bill pushes Fangbone back as he tries to crawl out of bed, even as he flails his arms and tries to worm his way out, but his exhaustion betrays him; he ends up being rolled back onto bed. “It’ll take twice as long to get rid of it if you don’t rest. Wait right here- I’m gonna go get some stuff to help.”

 

It feels like eons- slow, painful eons- until Bill returns, bag slung over his shoulders. He removes a very large container of water, a small cup, some kind of rag, multiple comic books, crayons (with sheets of paper, of course), and some kind of tall, metal cylinder that Fangbone has never seen before. He pours some water into the cup and hands it off to him, which Fangbone then very enthusiastically gulps down, suddenly realizing how thirsty he’d been.

 

He flops his head against his pillow, sighing in relief. “Thank you, Bill.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” He fills up his cup for him again, and then pours a considerable amount on to the rag. He rings it out, folds it up, and then puts it on Fangbone’s forehead. “I don’t know what kind of medicine barbarians have, so I didn’t want to accidentally make you sicker, but this should make your head feel better.”

 

“We have eel wart stew,” Fangbone closes his eyes, relaxing under the rag. “Or bloodroot pulp, but that is only for the most dire of illness.” He shivers, grimacing a little. “Twinklestick makes burnt bark tea, but it tastes worse than orc sweat.”

 

“Then you probably wouldn’t like cough syrup. Hey, you hungry?”

 

Fangbone nods, stifling a sneeze. He watches Bill unscrew the top to the metal cylinder he’d brought with him, offering it up to Fangbone as he sits up on his elbows. He sniffs it, then peers in at its contents. “What is this?”

 

“Chicken and rice soup! I had my mom make it, it’s really good. Probably a lot better than eel stew.”

 

Fangbone takes an experimental sip, and then tips the whole thing back to try to drink it all in one swift gulp.

 

“Whoa, slow down!” Bill gets to his feet, but he’s grinning. “It’s still pretty hot, plus you might wanna save some of it unless you get hungry again.”

 

“It is better than eel wart stew by a hundred fold,” He says, wiping broth off his chin. “How many kitchenry secrets does the Mother of Bill possess?”

 

“Right?” Bill sits at Fangbone’s feet, folding his legs up. “It’s her secret weapon, pretty much fixes  _ everything _ .”

 

“You are a gifted healer, Bill.”

 

“Thanks. I used to get sick a lot, when I was really little, I guess I just got used to it.”

 

“I cannot remember the last time I was ill. I must have been still in poop-cloths,” A heavy sniff, forearm rubbing at his nose, and then. “I must have been cursed.”

 

“I don’t think you were cursed, Fangbone. It’s probably from running around out in the rain yesterday.”

 

“Then why am I ill when you are not?”

 

“Well, I did go inside yesterday to clean up. In a house and not a cave.” Bill shrugs. “Or maybe you’re just not used to Earth germs.”

 

“What is a ‘germ’.”

 

“It’s, uh- it’s kind of like an animal, but not, and- or, no, wait,” Bill’s eyebrows fold together, trying to land on a good definition. “You know, I’m not  _ totally  _ sure. But I know they’re too small to see, and they make you sick, and they’re- I dunno, everywhere. Mostly dirty things.”

 

“Like mud?”

 

“Like mud.”

 

Fangbone sinks back into the bed, broad frown on his face, which only spreads when he sees Bill still grinning, maybe even trying not to laugh. “You could have warned me about the germs of the mud, Bill.”

 

“I didn’t think about it!” Bill insists. “I mean, at least you still had fun, right?”

 

Fangbone tries to keep the frown steady on his face, but he knows it’s no use. “Yes. I did have great fun.”


End file.
